


Familiar Patterns

by haemo33



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-06-24 07:03:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15625314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haemo33/pseuds/haemo33
Summary: When Alex Rider, newly (re)orphaned, ends up living with Wolf for an indefinite stretch of time, no one is entirely sure what's going to come of the situation. The two of them are walking disasters, both holding on to past traumas and huge secrets. Whatever they were expecting to come out of the situation, this certainly isn't it.





	1. One

When the bank calls the Rider residence, it's never a good thing. Alex knows that much. It's a normal event, but it's never a good one. Every time that phone rings, Alex feels a rock of Pavlovian worry drop into his stomach. So when the phone rings out in his empty house (which he will never get used to, nor does he want to), he already knows what's going to happen. Something bad. He abandons his literature homework on the desk and moves towards the kitchen, where the phone is.

The phone rings once, twice, three times before Alex gets to it.

"Hello?" He says into the receiver, already expecting the reply that follows. No one besides the bank calls the house phone. No one besides the bank is even sure that he lives here anymore. None of his neighbors have seen him, and his school mates don't come over.

"Hello Mr. Rider! This is Jessica at the Royal and General calling, we seem to have encountered a problem with your account. Would you be able to come by at two p.m. tomorrow to get this sorted out?" The overly perky voice chirps pleasantly. Alex knows Jessica, he's used to the blonde's constant unnecessary cheer.

"Two is fine, I'll be by then." Alex replies.

"We can send a car to pick you up, if you like." Jessica offers.

"I'll take the tube." Alex insists. He wants to hold on to some of his independence, and taking the tube is the only way for him to spit in the bank's face without Blunt and Jones getting upset. Ever since Jack died, he's been on thin ice with Alan Blunt.

"Okay! Have a nice day, Mr. Rider." Jessica chirps pleasantly. Alex doesn't actually mind the secretary, but her unwavering cheer gets on his nerves sometimes.

"You too Jessica." Alex doesn't wait for a reply before hitting the off button on the phone and slamming it on the counter. He sighs heavily, leaning against the wall. He wishes more than ever that Jack was still alive. Still here to comfort him and threaten MI6 and breathe life into the house that's been dead and dreary and downright depressing since she passed.

But dwelling on the past never did help anyone, so Alex Rider moves forward.

\--

The front of the bank used to be imposing. Alex used to feel a sense of fear, staring up at it's seemingly endless floors and ornate decoration. Now he has to swallow the bile rising in the back of his throat because he's not looking up today. He never does anymore. Now, every visit he makes to this bank is consumed by the block of concrete just outside it's doors. The one that's just visibly darker than the rest, stained in a splatter pattern so light that you really have to squint to see it.

But Alex doesn't need to squint. It's his blood that stains that concrete, after all.

He walks into the back totally stone-faced and neutral. There are a few other people milling around, but no one that Alex recognizes. Not that he's particularly well versed in MI6 agents, but he knows the higher up ones fairly well.

He marches past the desks, all attended to by beautiful men and women, and Alex briefly wonders if the job requirements say you have to be at least an 8/10 to work there. No one says a word to him, simply allowing him to go as he pleases. He spends more time here in the bank than he does in his own home, after all. He walks past the elevator, like always. Even in MI6, Alex isn't willing to risk locking himself in a solid metal box that he can't open. He takes the stairs two at a time until he comes to the floor that houses Blunt's office.

He knocks once on Blunt's office door, but doesn't wait for a response before he marches in. Blunt is sitting on the plain office chair behind the bland and unremarkable desk, some ugly thing that anyone could purchase in their local Ikea. Mrs. Jones sits beside Blunt, looking some mix of uncomfortable and pitying, and that's how Alex knows he's going to be leaving this office angry.

"Alex," Alan Blunt greets, folding his pale hands on the desk in front of him, "have a seat." He gestures to an ugly and uncomfortable looking chair pulled up against the desk. Alex pulls the chair out from the desk, depositing it in the middle of the room and sitting. Blunt, now four meters from Alex instead of the one he'd intended, sighs.

"Mr. Rider," he begins again, this time with a slightly icier tone to his voice, "it's been brought to our attention that you're living without a guardian." He says.

Alex snorts. "Huh. Just clued into that one, have you? I wonder why I'm living without a guardian. Could it be because you MI6 prats got her killed?" He questions sarcastically, ignoring the sting in his heart that comes up whenever he talks about Jack.

"Alex." Mrs. Jones says in a warning tone. She sounds more like a mother scolding her child for making a fuss in a supermarket and less like the deputy head of a national intelligence service.

"Tulip." Alex says mockingly, using the same tone. "Can we please get this conversation done? Tell me what foreign country you're sending me to get killed in and we'll call it a day. I told Tom I'd meet him at the park for a footie match at half past." This is a blatant lie, but Blunt and Jones don't need to know that. Alex is starting to get a little unnerved about this whole situation, and he just wants to get out of here as soon as possible.

"This is not a mission." Blunt says. "We are concerned for your safety, living alone as you are. So, we have decided-" Blunt stops speaking as Alex cuts him off.

"Seriously?" He asks, leaving forward in his chair. He folds his hands together and braces his elbows on his knees. "Blunt, you and I both know that you're not concerned about my safety for any decent reasons. So let's agree to be real with each other here, shall we?"

Blunt shoots Alex a look of very clear annoyance, but maintains his composure. "Very well. Alex, you are one of our best agents. There is no denying that. Which is why we have decided that it is very important not only that you are kept safe, but also that you don't arouse suspicion in school or social circles. Tonight, you will be moving in with your new guardian in his flat in Chelsea."

Alex bristles at the idea of moving in with a complete stranger, but he knows that it's entirely pointless to argue with Blunt. "Alright. Give me the address and I'll get myself there." He says.

"No need for that," Blunt holds his hand up when he sees Alex open his mouth to object, "Agent Daniels will be accompanying you."

As if he had been waiting outside the door (although he very well may have been), Ben Daniels leans in the door frame. "Did I hear my name?" He jokes.

"Ah, Agent Daniels. Please accompany Agent Rider to his home while he packs for his indefinite stay." Blunt says, very clearly dismissing the two spies. Alex shoves his chair back as he stands up, allowing it to topple helplessly to the floor, which is coincidentally exactly what Alex feels like doing in this exact moment.

Alex makes it halfway to the door when a voice stops him. Mrs. Jones speaks for only the second time since Alex arrived. "This is for your own good, Alex. Perhaps you should try to open up to your new guardian, you might have more in common than you previously thought."

Alex doesn't reply as he leaves, kicking the doorstop and allowing the heavy wood door to slam shut behind him with a resounding thud.

\--

**Well! That's chapter one out of the way! I know that this fic plot is a little bit generic, (read: way overused) but I would really like to do something new and inventive with it, so I promise I will work hard on that! Also, there is a possibility that this story will contain slash (Alex/Tom, for those of you who are wondering). I haven't decided yet, but it's a definite possibility.**


	2. Two

Ben insists on taking the elevator, much to Alex's own chagrin. He tries to kick up a fuss and complains endlessly, but Ben seems intent for reasons Alex doesn't quite understand. The elevator is between the tenth and ninth floor when Ben reaches forward and presses the red button labelled 'Emergency Stop'. The elevator jerks to a halt and Alex's breathing starts to quicken.

He generally prides himself on being fairly composed. When he allows emotions to escape, they're never the vulnerable emotions. Things like sadness and anxiety and raw fear are vulnerable and make him feel small and weak. He doesn't like feeling small or weak. He takes a steadying breath and turns to face Ben, attempting to salvage some control of the situation.

"I've seen this in a porno before, and I must say that I don't like where this is going. There are cameras in here, remember that." He teases the older agent. "I believe it's called statutory rape."

"You're a cheeky little shit." Ben huffs. "That's not why I stopped the elevator, alright?" The older agent looks oddly serious, eyes narrowed ever so slightly and lips pursed tight.

"Well, why did you stop it? And really, was there any reason we couldn't have this discussion in the car? I know that you're new to espionage, but not everything has to be dramatic. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but this is not a James Bond movie." Alex says, leaning forward to press whatever button will get the elevator moving again, despite not knowing which button it is.

Ben's hand grabs his upper arm and pulls him away from the control panel. "I tried to convince them to let you stay on your own. I think you're self-sufficient, but Blunt and Jones don't agree." The statement seems random, especially because Ben doesn't really know him. Twelve days of endless bullying, and a few days on a mission do not a friendship make.

"Yeah, well, Peppermint and 50 Shades of Bland up there," Ben snorts at the nicknames. Alex ignores him and continues speaking, "don't really know anything about me. But neither do you." Alex shrugs coldly, pushing Ben's hand off of his arm. "Can we please just go now? I told my friend Tom I'd be at the park to play footie with him soon." He repeats the same lie he told Blunt and Jones.

Ben almost looks hurt by his words, although Alex can't fathom why. "Ok, Alex." He sighs, pressing a button on the control panel. The elevator hums back to life and resumes its descent to the ground floor. Alex and Ben stand on opposite sides of the elevator, neither one talking. Ben throws the occasional glance in Alex's direction, but Alex keeps his eyes focused on the mirrored wall in front of him.

He takes in his own appearance and revels in how unrecognizable he's become. To everyone else, he looks like the same guy he's always been, but perhaps a bit more muscular. But to Alex himself, his reflection is a totally different person. Some days he looks in the mirror and all he can see is a stranger, someone who looks nothing like him. Other days he sees Julius Grief. Those are the days when his mirrors end up broken.

The elevator comes to a stop and the doors slide open. No one in the lobby questions the emergency stop the elevator made, though Alex is sure that someone, somewhere got an alert when it did. One look at the cameras would've been enough to know that there was no danger.

"My car's in the parking lot." Ben says. He doesn't stop to make sure Alex is following, and Alex considers running in the other direction. Just to spite Blunt and Jones. He wouldn't get away with it, but any chance he can get to rebel, he's sure as hell going to take. But an inexplicable force compels him to follow Ben. It's a freak force of nature, the force that compels Alex rider to obey.

Ben's car, a black SUV of ambiguous make and model, is parked surprisingly close to the Royal and General. Usually parking spots that close to the Bank are reserved for high-ranking agents and important guests. Alex is fairly sure that Ben isn't nowhere near a high enough ranking agent to warrant a parking spot this good. Ben seems to sense Alex's confusion, because he answers the question that Alex never asked.

"Jones gave me her parking spot for the day. She said you'd try to skip, so she decided to give you as little chance as possible to run away." Ben says.

Alex huffs dramatically. "Been talking about me a lot then, Daniels?" He quirks an eyebrow. He opens the back door of the SUV and sits on the bench seats in the back of the vehicle, as far away from Ben and Jones and the Bank as he can get without being in the trunk of the car.

Ben clicks his tongue and slides into the driver's seat. He turns the key and the engine rumbles to life, humming and purring under the hood. Ben carefully backs out of the parking lot and starts driving through the busy streets of London. The car is silent for a few minutes, until Ben starts to speak.

"Look, Alex." He begins, and Alex is instantly on alert. People usually only start sentences like that when they're about to tell him something that they know he won't be happy with. "You're not going into this alone, okay?"

Well. That's not what he was expecting. Alex blinks twice but doesn't deign to speak. Ben shoots him a look in the rear-view mirror, an emotion that Alex can't quite place. "I know you don't know me that well, but I'm going to try and pop in from time to time. Your new guardian, well… he's a friend of mine, so to speak. He's going through some rough times right now, and I know that he's not always the most patient of people, so I'm warning you now that there might be times when it's kind of shitty, but please go easy on him." Ben's tone is almost pleading, which makes Alex think that this is someone he really cares for. A previous mission partner, probably. Or someone he knows from before SO.

Again, Alex doesn't speak. His mouth is oddly dry and his tongue feels like it's glued to the roof of his mouth. He starts to sweat, despite the fact that it's October and it can't be more than fifteen degrees in the car. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, suddenly starting to feel like it's way too tight. Everything feels too tight. His shirt, his skin, his throat. It feels like everything is trying to choke him.

He forces himself to ignore it, sucking in shallow breaths as he makes eye contact with Ben via the rear-view mirror.

"Look, Alex." There they are again, those two dreaded words that Alex hates. He wishes Ben would either come up with a more creative opening line or simply stop fucking talking. Preferably the latter.

"I'll stop talking in a moment, I just need you to know that the guy you're staying with, he means well. He really does."

Ben's words hang over Alex's head like a raincloud. Dark and pervasive, intruding his every thought. He takes a shaky breath, forcing air into lungs that feel like they've collapsed.

"Okay." It's almost a whisper, but Ben must be satisfied with his reply because he turns on the radio, cranking up the volume on a Beatles song Alex can't quite place.

For the rest of the drive, the only voice that breaks the silence belongs to Paul McCartney.

Alex prefers it that way.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Alex meet some unexpected visitors and Wolf is still a bastard.

When Ben stops the car on the curb outside Alex's house, there's already a white sedan parked in the driveway. Alex knows that none of his neighbors own a white sedan, and furthermore none of his neighbors would bother to park in his driveway instead of their own. Alex's heart rate slows and all sense of fear or anxiety dissipates. His senses pick up and he starts to look around for signs of danger. The front door is

"Is that your car?" Ben's voice is serious and hard, coming from the front seat. He seems to have picked up on Alex's trepidation. Alex suddenly realizes the difference between Fox, the soldier he met at Brecon Beacons, and Ben, the spy who saved his life in Australia. Fox, the special air forces soldier, was hard and determined, focused on getting thought selection and being the best he could be. Fox didn't have time for Alex's mistakes. Like the rest of K-Unit.

Ben Daniels, the MI6 agent, is kinder. He laughs more and usually carries a bit of mirth in his eye. He seems to carry his heart on his sleeve at times. Strangest of all, Ben Daniels acts like he wants to be Alex's friend.

He doesn't have time to dwell on that right now though. "It's not." Alex's voice is firm. He doesn't wait for Ben's response, pushing the door open and sliding out of the car. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he pulls a gun out of a holster on his waist. When Ben comes around the other side of the car, his own gun in hand, his eyes nearly bug out of his head.

"Jones told me that they don't give you guns!" He exclaims quietly.

"They don't." Is Alex's simple response.

He makes his way towards the door, scanning his surroundings. The front door isn't quite closed, it's obvious that someone has pulled it shut behind them without bothering to make sure that the latch catches. Alex pushes the door open slowly and tries to make his way in, but gets stopped by Ben. "I've sent a signal to MI6. Go get in the car and wait, I'll handle this."

Alex narrows his eyes. "Hell no. I'm the senior agent here, or have you forgotten?" Alex waves his gun. "You can go in first, but I'm not waiting in the car."

Ben opens his mouth to protest, but Alex cuts him off before he can speak. "My house, my rules. Go." His tone is very no-nonsense. Ben sighs, but doesn't argue. He knows firsthand that Alex is capable of taking care of himself, but he's still reluctant to let the teen put himself in a possibly dangerous position.

Ben enters the house quietly and Alex follows. As soon as they're both through the door, a bullet whizzes by and embeds itself in the wall above Alex's head.

"What the fu-" Alex manages to get out before another bullet comes his way, this one landing in the floor by his feet. He holds his gun up in front of him, looking for any sign of the shooter. He starts to slip into what Tom refers to as 'superspy mode'. When Alex finds himself in these sorts of situations, he loses almost all sense of self-preservation in favor of saving the people around him. Tom figured that out when the two friends were out late one night, both trying to escape the demons in their homes. For Alex, it was the oppressive silence. For Tom, the endless noise.

Alex takes a deep breath, refocusing himself. He scans the house, trying to pinpoint the location of the shooter.

There. A woman, behind the bar in his kitchen. "Ben," Alex says, "Shooter to your left. Ten o'clock." Ben fires two bullets in the direction of the woman. Alex thinks for a moment that MI6 is going to have a lot of trouble covering this up with the neighbors.

Ben makes his way to the kitchen, gun at the ready. As soon as he steps over the threshold between foyer and kitchen, a second body comes flying from the left, taking Ben to the ground in the blink of an eye. He drives the butt of his gun into the side of Ben's head, and the older agent groans in pain as he falls unconscious.

The perpetrator is a man, roughly 6'2", black hair, well muscled. Ben is strong, but there's almost no way he can get this guy to move from where he's kneeling on his chest. Especially not with a gun pointed at his throat.

Alex feels a bit helpless, standing against the internal wall of his front foyer. He's one teenager with one gun, going against two grown adults with more experience and more preparation than he's got.

"Rider," The man's voice is deep. His accent is from somewhere in the Eastern Block, but the exact country is hard to pinpoint. "You have made a lot of enemies. More than any other boy I have ever met. This is impressive, you know that?" He says.

"No shit." Alex deadpans, "I've been noticing that recently, but I've got no idea what I did. I mean, you take out a couple of terrorist organizations and everyone acts like you're a bloody spy or some shit!" Maybe he should know that sarcasm isn't a great idea, especially when someone has a gun pointed at his co-worker's throat.

"You are going to upset someone with that mouth of yours someday." The woman laughs. Her accent is also noticeably Eastern, though it's exact location just as vague as the man's.

"Oh, what're they going to do? Shoot me?" Alex asks, raising his gun a bit higher and firing a carefully aimed shot at the woman. The bullet hits its intended mark, digging into the shoulder of her dominant hand. She hits the ground, screaming and cursing. She turns her gun over to the other hand, but it's obvious she's ill-practiced with it. She fires three shots in rapid succession. The first two miss horribly. The third bullet, however, scrapes Alex's left arm, leaving a cut to bleed sluggishly. It's not deep, just a small wound that will heal over quite easily. It still stings like crazy though.

The man laughs maniacally. Alex is reminded of a villain in a cheesy horror movie. The woman stands up, gun in hand, seemingly ready to fire off another shot when the man barks out an order in a foreign language. She seems angry, but lowers her gun.

"We have been told not to harm you. My… acquaintance… has disobeyed this rule, and I assure you that our boss will be most displeased with her," The man takes his sweet time explaining things, especially considering he's still holding Ben at gunpoint. "But there is no rule against harming your friends." He laughs, staring down at Ben with malice in his eyes.

"Who do you work for?" Alex asks, lining the sights on his gun up with the man's head. One shot, and he'd be dead. One shot, and he wouldn't be a problem anymore.

One shot and Alex would lose his chance on learning which psychopath of the week wants his head on a platter…

Alex doesn't pull the trigger. Not yet.

"I can't tell you that, now can I? That'd be ruining the surprise, and I could never do that. Could I, Detenysh?" The nickname sounds familiar to Alex. He doesn't know when he'd heard it, or who it had been from, but he knows that it's important.

Sacred, even.

Anger swells in him. It starts in his gut, pulling and tugging and crashing like waves. It rushes through his body. It pools in his chest, right above his heart, and grabs hold.

Alex moves his gun down slightly and pulls the trigger.

The slug rushes out of his gun, and he feels a surprising calm wash over him. Curiosity still pokes at his brain, but he feels at peace.

The bullet strikes the unknown man right in the side, piercing through skin like Jell-O and, judging by the way the man starts to shout, ripping through at least one vital organ. He rolls off Ben, shouting obscenities. The woman watches with impartial gaze before turning and running towards the back foyer. Alex knows that he should go after her, but his primary concern is making sure that Ben is okay.

The back door slams at the same time the front door comes bursting open. Agents fill Alex's house and he starts to feel lightheaded, the aftermath of what he's experienced catching up to him quickly.

He spots Crawley walking towards him. "You're late." Is all he says before the ground comes rushing towards him.

When Alex wakes, he's in a dark room, in a bed that isn't his own. He squints in the dark, barely able to make out the outline of a door. He swings his legs over the edge of the queen size bed, sinking his toes into a surprisingly plush carpet.

No kidnapper has carpets this nice, he thinks. That's a boost of confidence.

He stands up warily, remembering the events that had transpired earlier in the day. His gun is nowhere to be found, but that's not a surprise. MI6 probably confiscated it earlier.

Alex walks over to the doorway, feeling around blindly on the wall in search of a light switch. He flips it to the 'on' position when he finds it, blinking hard as the room is bathed in light. It's a midsized room, smaller than his room at home but still a decent size. The walls are light cream, the bedspread is a dark wine color. There are three suitcases stacked at the end of the bed, each one slightly smaller than the one below it.

This is probably his new guardian's house, then. Alex groans mentally, thinking about all the things that could possibly go wrong here. And it's a lengthy list.

Alex opens the door as slowly as possible, trying to delay meeting his guardian as long as possible. There are muffled voices coming from down the hallway. One of them has Ben's Liverpudlian accent (Alex breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that the other agent is okay), but the other voice is unidentifiable, though vaguely familiar. Mrs. Jones did imply that Alex already knew his new guardian, though.

As he pads down the hallway, Alex can make out some of the conversation.

"The heads think this could be good for you. Both of you."

"What's good for me is none of the bloody SO's business."

"I said both." Ben says flatly.

"What's the brat even need protecting for anyway?" The unknown voice huffs. Alex peers around the corner, thankfully still unnoticed by the two arguing men. He can see Ben's face, looking frustrated, but the other man's face remains unseen. He's buff, Alex can tell. He looks Hispanic judging by his skin tone, but it's impossible to tell.

"Diego, you know I can't tell you." Ben looks apologetic, but Alex can tell that at least some of it is intended to placate the angry man.

"Bullshit you can't fucking tell me. He's the kid of some diplomat, right? Some fucking Mama's boy whose Daddy got caught up in something he shouldn't have?" Alex decides he's bored of just listening in. He takes a step out into the living room, but pauses again when Ben starts speaking.

"We got attacked earlier. Went to pick up his stuff, there were two people with guns waiting. One's in MI6 custody, one got away. SO thinks it might be-" Ben spots Alex standing by the hallway and stops talking.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty." He teases good naturedly. If Alex was in a better mood, he might joke along. But his entire mind is occupied with finding out who broke into his house. "SO thinks it might be who?" He asks, a hard look in his eyes.

Ben looks uncomfortable. "Alex, why don't you come meet your new guardian?" He says quickly, trying to redirect Alex's attention. "Alex, this is Diego Morales. Diego, this is Alex Rider. You might know each other better as Wolf and Cub, though."

Wolf turns around with a glare in his eye. Alex glares right back, then looks at Ben.

"I think I want to be kidnapped now." He says plainly. Ben starts to laugh, a snicker at first but eventually evolving into full blown guffaws.

He's still laughing when he walks out the front door, climbs into his car, and drives away.

Wolf and Alex stare each other down, neither of them willing to break eye contact. In the end, it's Wolf who looks away. A glimmer of hope dares to rear its ugly head in Alex's chest. Wolf was a Grade-A dick at Brecon Beacons, but that was almost a year ago. He saved Alex's life at Point Blanc, he sent that get-well-soon card all the way from Baghdad. There's a chance they might get along, right?

"You've already seen your bedroom. My room is across the hall. There's a bathroom at the end of the hallway. If you go in my room, I will kill you. If you use all of the hot water, I will kill you. If you get into any trouble with the cops, you deal with it yourself. I'm only here to make sure you don't get killed." Wolf says.

The glimmer of hope is crushed and replaced with cold indifference.

"If you're here to make sure I don't get killed, wouldn't killing me yourself be kind of counter-productive?" Alex questions. Wolf closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths and repeatedly clenches and unclenches his fists.

"I don't want to deal with you. You're what… Nineteen? Twenty? You can handle yourself. I'll leave money on the coffee table. I don't care what you do with it. I'm out of the house a lot, I don't care if you bring friends over when I'm gone. Don't make a mess and stay out of my room. You're not my kid. You are not my problem. Understand?"

Alex nods.

"Perfectly, sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three! Alex and Wolf, finally united! Oof. This chapter is 2000+ words, which is honestly super exciting for me. I'd like every chapter from here on out to be roughly this length, but I also want your input! Do you guys, as readers, prefer longer chapters like this or shorter ones like the last two?
> 
> I finally have (some semblance of) guidance as to where this fic is going to go, so hopefully that kind of came out a bit more in this chapter. Big ol' cookie to whoever can figure out the significance of Detenysh ;)


	4. Four

As soon as Wolf finishes his speech, Alex stomps off to take an overly long, extremely hot shower. Partially to piss off Wolf, partially because it helps him think. Mostly to piss off Wolf, though. Alex was willing to give the soldier a chance, but any friendly feelings he had have been replaced with dislike. He knows he shouldn't act like this, but Wolf already thinks he's a brat, so he really has nothing to lose.

He locks the bathroom door, looking around. The walls are painted a light sandy yellow, not the color he'd expect from Wolf of all people. He strips down, leaving his clothes in a pile by the sink. He turns the faucet on as hot as he can get it before it starts to actually burn and steps in, muscles relaxing under the pressure of the water.

Standing under the scalding water, Alex's mind jumps from topic to topic like a defunct plinko machine. It's like he can't keep on a single topic for more than twenty seconds before his brain rushes off to meet another topic head-on. He has so many questions and so few answers.

MI6 have been content letting him live on his own for a while now. He'll be seventeen in a matter of months, he hasn't been on a major mission since the disaster that was Meknes. Things have been quiet, MI6 has only been giving him small intelligence missions in the UK since then. So why move him now?

And why have him move in with Wolf, of all people? The man hated him at Brecon Beacons, and MI6 knows that. Out of all the people he could have moved in with, why Wolf? Surely there were spies or soldiers who would've been a much better fit for Alex.

And what was Ben saying to Wolf? MI6 have never been great at keeping Alex in the loop, but usually they're not this secretive. They're obviously hiding something.

He was the one that got attacked, after all. It was his house that got broken into. It was him that the man seemed to know. Whoever those people worked for, they were told not to kill him. Who wants him alive? What do they want him for?

He deserves to know. He shuts off the water, grabbing blindly for a towel. Maybe it's time that he paid Blunt and Jones a little visit of his own.

He dries his body quickly, giving his hair a quick once over. He throws on the same outfit he'd been wearing all day, which is maybe a little gross but ultimately not the end of the world.

He ducks into his room, grabbing his wallet from where someone had placed it on his night table. He jams it, along with his cell phone, into the pockets of his trousers. He throws a thin jacket on and shoves a pair of gloves in the pocket. As a last-second thought, he empties his messenger bag out on his bed and slings it over his shoulder. Turning off the lights, he steps into the hallway.

He gets to the end of the hallway before he realizes that something is amiss. Wolf had told him that there were two bedrooms and a bathroom in this hallway, but here he is staring down a mysterious fourth door.

He considers looking inside. It's probably just an office or another bedroom, but there's only one way to be sure. Just as he's reaching towards the doorknob, a loud snore comes from the living room and Alex nearly jumps out of his skin. He turns around slowly and has to stifle a laugh.

Wolf is laying in a recliner, footrest up and back fully reclined, dead asleep. His head is lolled to one side, mouth wide open. There's a trickle of drool running down his cheek, which is admittedly gross. Alex snorts, pulling his phone out of his pocket and snapping a picture. Blackmail is a bitch, as Wolf is soon to learn.

Alex tiptoes to the door, opening it as slowly as possible and wincing as it creaks. He keeps an eye on Wolf, who continues to snore, blissfully unaware of the fact that his charge is sneaking out.

This concerns Alex. Wolf is a trained soldier, and a damn good one at that. He should have noticed Alex leaving by now. Ben had mentioned that Wolf was 'going through some rough times' and Alex can't help but wonder if those aforementioned 'rough times' had something to do with how Wolf has been acting.

Alex tries to shake the thoughts. It's not his problem, just like he's not Wolf's problem. After all, he isn't Wolf's friend. Or his kid, as the soldier had pointed out. Stepping out the front door, Alex realizes that he has absolutely no idea where he is. He was still unconscious when he got here. What a sight that must've been for the neighbors, an unconscious boy being carried into the house next door.

Alex snickers quietly and decides to hail a cab, praying that he has enough cash in his wallet to pay for it. If he doesn't, he can probably convince someone at the bank to pay it for him. God knows they owe him that, at least.

He doesn't spend much time standing on the curb before a yellow taxi pulls up. Alex slides into the backseat smoothly. "Royal and General Bank, please." He says politely, pulling his seatbelt on and staring out the window. The cabbie seems to take this as an indication that Alex doesn't want to talk, so he turns the radio on low. Some cheesy top-40s pop station.

Alex watches out the window, trying to figure out where exactly Wolf lives. The house itself is about twenty minutes from the Bank, but Alex doesn't spot a single tube station on the way there. If Wolf is willing to talk to him when he gets back, he may ask the man for a map or some directions or something.

Alex's phone buzzes in his pocket, startling him. He wrestles it out of his front pocket and enters the 9-digit passcode.

NEW TEXT  
From: Tom  
hey m8 parents r arguing again. mum threw all of dad's clothes out the window. it's crazy. want 2 do something?

Alex frowns. Tom is a good guy; he shouldn't have to live with parents like his. They're always arguing, throwing things around, and generally wreaking havoc. Alex can't figure out why they don't just get a divorce already, but Tom says they're trying to stay together 'for his sake'.

To: Tom  
Going to the bank at the moment. I'll text you when I'm out and then meet you at Lonnie's?

Lonnie's is a small diner in Chelsea that Tom and Alex have both been going to forever. It's not a popular place, so they generally get left alone there.

NEW TEXT  
From: Tom  
sounds good. see u soon :)

The text comes through right as the cab pulls up outside the bank. Alex leaves the cabbie with £35, well over his total. He disappears out the door, calling over his shoulder, "Keep the change!" as he shuts the door.

The sun is low in the sky over the horizon, and a quick check of his phone tells Alex that it's almost 7:30. The bank never really closes, and Blunt and Jones don't typically leave until later. Alex isn't entirely convinced that Blunt doesn't actually live somewhere in the Royal and General.

He pushes through the front doors and walks straight up to a desk. "Sebastian." He greets the man behind the desk. Alex is used to the steady rotation of 'secretaries', and Sebastian is one of his favorites. Sebastian is older than most of the secretaries, in his mid-50s. He has salt and pepper hair cut and styled like he just walked off a GQ shoot. He has two kids and four grandchildren, and he always seems to know what Alex needs.

"Alex! Looking for Mr. Blunt, are you? I'm afraid he's busy, but I believe Mrs. Jones is free at the moment." He says, already holding the phone up to his ear. Alex stops him before he can dial the extension.

"Don't worry about calling her, I can let myself in." He says, and something about the look in his eye causes Sebastian to nod in assent.

"Go right on up, son." He says, gesturing to the stairwell behind the row of desks. Alex nods and makes his way to the stairs, taking them two at a time. Just five and a half hours he was doing this exact same thing, but for a very different reason.

When he gets to Blunt's office, he doesn't bother to knock. If he respected Blunt just a little more, or at all for that matter, he might've knocked. But Blunt isn't expecting it, and Alex likes the surprise factor.

The door flies open, and Alex is a little confused by what he sees. Blunt and Jones are sitting behind Blunt's desk, which is normal. What is not normal is Ben Daniels, pacing back and forth in front of Blunt's desk. The stress and worry on his face make him look about 15 years older than he really is, and that rather worries Alex.

"What," He begins, watching as Ben whips around to face him, "is going on here?"

His tone is very no-nonsense. He's come here for answers, and he'll be damned if he leaves here without them.

"Alex. I know Ian taught you better than to enter a room without knocking." Blunt says, and Alex snorts.

"He actually didn't. Etiquette lessons are usually up to a child's mother and father, but seeing as your organization killed mine, I never got around to learning that stuff. Whoops." He deadpans, walking straight into the room. He grabs a chair and turns it around, straddling it backwards to face Blunt and Jones.

"Alan. Tulip. I need to speak to you both." He looks at Ben. "Alone."

Blunt seems to ponder Alex's obvious request for a moment. Jones looks like she'd like to chide him for being rude, but seems to know that it won't get her anywhere. There's a moment of tense, awkward silence where everyone stares at one another, but no one speaks.

Finally, Blunt breaks the silence. "Agent Daniels, you may take your leave now. Those papers we discussed will be on your desk by morning." He says.

Ben looks like he wants to object, but Mrs. Jones speaks before he can. "Please go home, Agent Daniels. Get some rest. We will talk further tomorrow." She says firmly.

Ben huffs out a heavy sigh, but turns on his heel and exits. He pulls the door shut behind him.

"Alex, that was rude." Is the first thing Mrs. Jones says, and Alex wants to laugh.

"Sorry Tulip, I'll try to remember next time." He says sarcastically.

"Mr. Rider, is there a reason for your late visit? You should be with Mr. Morales." Blunt says.

"Sorry Alan, I just missed you and Tulip here so much I had to come and see you guys." Alex spits, rolling his eyes. "No, I have a few questions for you that I'd like some answers to." He says, narrowing his eyes as Blunt and Mrs. Jones exchange glances.

"Alex…" Mrs. Jones says. "If this is about what happened to you this afternoon, I'm afraid we don't know anything yet. We are looking for the second attacker, but it's too soon for us to know anything."

"Bullshit." Alex stands up, walking up to the desk and slamming his open palms down on the hard wood. "I overheard Ben talking to Wolf. He said that you think you know who sent them. I want to know."

Blunt stares impassively. Mrs. Jones shifts slightly in her chair. "I assure you that we have no idea what you're talking about."

"Fucking hell." Alex laughs. "You really think I'm dumb, don't you?" He says in a low tone. "Blunt, you should know by now." He leans in. "Spying is in my blood. That's what you've been telling me since day one, isn't it? You know that I'll figure it out, one way or another. So you might as well tell me."

"There is nothing we can say to you on the matter." Blunt says firmly. "You are welcome to dig as much as you'd like, but there's nothing you'll find out. When we find something out, we will tell you." He says, effectively closing the topic to further discussion.

"Fine. This is not the end of this conversation, though." Alex says, returning to his chair in the middle of the room. "Now, why am I only being moved now? After all these months, why are you forcing me to move in with Wolf now? And why Wolf?" He asks.

Blunt raises an eyebrow, the most emotion Alex has ever seen the man show at one time. "Those are questions I believe I answered during our meeting earlier this afternoon. You are a safety risk and a liability living on your own as you were. Diego Morales is on… temporary leave from the SAS, and he has graciously agreed to take you in. Now, if you wouldn't mind, Alex." Blunt looks at his watch. "I have a meeting to attend. I trust you can see yourself out?"

Alex wants to punch something. He wants to kick and scream and throw a massive fit. But he doesn't. Instead, he stands up. "Have a good night, Tulip." He says, leaving the office. He pulls the door shut behind him and hits the stairs, reaching the ground floor as quickly as possible. He walks up to Sebastian's desk, shooting him a guilty smile.

"Hey, Sebastian…" He drums his fingers on the desk, trying to look as bashful as he can. "Look, I was snooping around in Ben Daniels' office earlier today, trying to figure out where the heads were sending me to live and I kind of… left my phone in his office?" He rubs a hand on the back of his neck.

Sebastian chortles. "You need me to let you in so you can grab it before he finds out?" He says quietly, already opening the drawer in his desk that contained spare keycards. "I'll make you a spare, but you've got to promise you'll bring it right back to me and not tell anyone that I did this." He says, punching some numbers into his computer and swiping the keycard through a reader.

"Thank you, Sebastian. I'm going to get you such an awesome Christmas present this year." Alex jokes, grabbing the keycard from Sebastian. The older man has always had a soft spot for Alex, and Alex feels like a jerk for taking advantage of that. He doesn't meet Sebastian's eye when he thanks him a last time. He takes the stairs (again) to the fourth floor, where Ben's office is.

412… 414… 416. Bingo. The door to office 418 is shut tightly. Alex looks up and down the hall. Once he's sure that there's no one to see him, he pulls on the gloves from his pocket and swipes the card. He ducks inside the office and thanks the heavens that the SAS imprinted Ben with a permanent need for tidiness. The office is immaculate, every paper and folder sorted into a filing cabinet or desk drawer. There are two baskets on the edge of the desk. One is labeled INBOX and the other OUTBOX.

There's only one folder in the inbox on his desk. A standard beige file folder with nothing printed on it besides the red ink of a CLASSIFIED stamp and a single word. Gemini II. Alex picks the folder up. The papers inside are still warm. He opens it and pulls out his phone, taking photos of every sheet inside. There are only twelve pieces of paper total, but every sheet is crammed full of words and diagrams that Alex can't quite make sense of.

As soon as he's photographed every paper inside, he tidies the folder until it looks like he was never there. He presses his ear to the door to make sure there's no one in the hallway. When he's confident that he's not going to get caught, he slips out the door and pulls it shut behind him, listening to the automatic click of the lock.

He decides to walk to Lonnie's after he's dropped the keycard off with Sebastian. It's not too far from the bank, and the chilly October air is quite refreshing. He sends Tom a simple text, letting him know that he's on his way to Lonnie's, and he gets an overly enthusiastic text in response. Tom's texts are usually riddled with improper grammar, bad spelling, and overuse of emojis. Alex doesn't mind, though. That's just the kind of person Tom is.

Alex's thoughts are stuck firmly on the file in Ben's office. He doesn't have any proof, but he thinks that whatever assignment Ben is currently on has something to do with him. He hopes not. He doesn't know that he's ready for another big mission. Not after the way his mission in Meknes ended.

He shakes his head. He does not want to go down that path again. It's a dark and slippery rabbit hole, one he doesn't want to experience.

It's not a long walk before he comes across the welcoming exterior of Lonnie's diner. Something about this building always makes Alex feel at home. It's probably the nostalgia and the memories he associates with this place. He pulls open the heavy glass door, stepping into the warm air. It doesn't take him long to spot Tom. He's sitting at a booth at the back of the restaurant, phone in one hand. He's using the other to scoop fries into his mouth with a ferocity Alex knows only Tom is capable of. He looks a bit sad, which is very unlike Tom.

Alex saunters over to the table, and Tom looks up. His eyes light up at the sight of his friend. "Alex!" He cheers, showing off his mouthful of half-chewed fries.

Alex, used to Tom's behavior and poor table manners by now, simply laughs and sits across the booth from the dark-haired teenager.

"How was your meeting at the bank?" Tom asks, still shoveling fries into his mouth. Alex reaches forward and pulls the basket towards himself, picking out a few fries to nibble on himself. He had no idea how hungry he is until he saw Tom's fries.

"It was normal. They won't tell me anything, which means I have to snoop. The usual." Alex chews on a couple more fries. "What were your parents fighting about this time?" He asks.

All of Tom's muscles tense and his back straightens. "I'd rather not talk about it here. Let's just eat and make happy, I'll tell you about it later." He says seriously.

Alex nods. He knows when to back off. "Sounds good. Hey, so Blunt has decided that I need a guardian." He says, and he can feel his blood pressure rising at the mere mention of his dickhead soldier of a guardian.

Tom quirks an eyebrow. "Oh really?" He asks. Alex nods.

The two best friends sit at their booth in Lonnie's and talk about anything and everything under the sun, while still ignoring two of the biggest topics weighing on their minds. Alex talks about Wolf and gracefully dances around the subject of Tom's parents. Tom fills Alex in on the hottest Brooklands gossip and never once brings up Alex's mission in Meknes. They make a good team.

Eventually, 8:30 turns to 9:00, and 9:00 turns to 10:00, and they've been sitting in the same booth for almost two whole hours. The hostess gives them a polite nudge out the door and they find themselves sitting in the park, side by side on the swings.

They sit in silence for a while. Every so often, Alex can hear Tom take a breath and open his mouth like he wants to say something, but every time he closes it and stays silent. Alex keeps quiet, allowing Tom to say it on his own. He has no idea what's weighing so heavily on his best friend's mind, but he wants to know so he can figure out how to make it better.

After nearly fifteen minutes of sitting in silence, Tom finally speaks.

"Alex?" He asks, as if trying to ascertain that Alex is still sitting beside him. Alex hums quietly, letting Tom know what he's still listening.

Another minute of silence passes, and Alex starts to worry that Tom is in some sort of trouble. Or maybe his parents are finally getting a divorce. Maybe he's moving to Italy to live with Jerry. There are so many possibilities.

"I'm gay."

Alex will be the first to admit that that is not one of the possibilities he considered. Tom, who has spent so much time talking about women and joking about breasts and 'rating' girls in their class, is gay? He feels like he should have noticed a long time ago, but all of Tom's previous behavior was very heterosexual.

"Alex, please say something." Tom sounds near tears, and it squeezes Alex's heart. He hates to hear his best friend sound so upset.

"Ok." Is all Alex says, and he wants to smack himself for it. He tries to come up with something better to say. "I mean, uh… congrats? I mean. That's cool. Thanks for telling me?" He flounders helplessly, and Tom giggles quietly.

"Always a man of eloquence, Alex." He jokes, and Alex is relieved to hear him sounding happy again.

"This doesn't change anything, you know." Alex says simply, having finally found the right words. "You're still my best friend."

"Well duh. Come on Alex, you can't get rid of me that easily." Tom laughs.

"I've noticed. I've been trying for years, and I still haven't managed it." They both chuckle at that one.

"One more thing. Alex. I… I really l-" He's cut off by the sound of his phone ringing. Highway to Hell blares from the tinny speakers and Tom rushes to answer.

"Hello? … Oh, hi dad … is it that late? I hadn't noticed. I've been out with Alex … I think I might stay with a friend tonight. Just until mum cools off a bit … are you sure? … yeah, yeah I will … you too." He hangs up, then looks at Alex.

"My dad wants me home." He says.

"Oh." Is all Alex has to offer.

"I'll text you." Tom says. Alex hates how awkward things feel.

"Yeah, I should probably be getting back as well. See you, Tom. And… thanks for trusting me." He replies.

"You trust me with matters of national security every day. This is nothing." Tom waves a hand. "See you soon, man."

Alex sits on the swing for a moment after Tom leaves, trying to wrap his head around his best friend's newly revealed secret. It's not a big deal, he knows plenty of gay people. It isn't 1950, being gay isn't a big deal anymore.

But the knowledge still feels weird in his head. He whispers to himself, "Tom is gay." And yup, it feels weird on his tongue as well.

Not bad. Just weird.

The cab ride back to Wolf's is just as silent as the one to the bank was. The cabbie drops him off at the end of the street, and Alex once again tips generously.

The front door is (predictably) locked. Alex doesn't want to knock and wake up Wolf, so he goes with Plan B. the window in his room is rather low to the ground, so he jimmies the lock and slides the window open. He braces himself on the windowsill and hoists himself through the opening. He hits the ground with an audible thud, but still makes it in. He lays on the floor for a moment, looking at the ceiling. For a brief moment, he thinks he's safe.

Things never go quite that smoothly for Alex Rider. The door flies open and Alex finds himself faced with not one very angry SAS man. Wolf stands there, staring. It doesn't take him long to make the connection between Alex's pink cheeks, his coat, and the open window.

"Cub." He begins calmly. "You have fifteen seconds to explain why I woke up and you were not in the house. And why you decided to climb back in though the window. Go."

Alex groans, hitting his head on the wall and letting it rest there. "Would you believe me if I said that I got abducted by aliens?"

The glare he receives gives him all the answers he needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! 4000 words. I debated cutting this chapter after Alex's meeting at the Bank, but I figured Fuck It why not keep going? And that's the story of why I'm posting this at one am. Tell me what you think! Should I have cut it after the Bank or is this a good length? I don't want my chapters to get so long that people don't bother reading them, so let me know what you think! Not just of the length, but of the story in general. Do you have requests for scenes, questions, complaints, criticism? Whatever you've got, I will gladly take. Please comment!


	5. Five

“What the hell were you thinking?” Wolf shouts. Alex remains seated on the edge of his bed, watching the angry SAS soldier pace back and forth. This has been going on for at least fifteen minutes. Wolf paces back and forth for a while, yells at Alex a bit, and returns to pacing. 

“Why do you care?” Alex retorts, crossing his arms over his chest. Wolf really has no right to be angry at him for this. It’s not like Wolf gave him a curfew or told him to ask before he left. And even if he had, the chances of Alex actually listening to him are slim to none.

“What if you’d gone out and gotten yourself killed? I wouldn’t know, no one knew where you are. I woke up and you were gone. I called the Bank and they told me that you’d been there hours ago. That’s why. No one knew where you are. You could have been bleeding out in a ditch somewhere for all anyone knew… No note, no text, nothing.” He lectures. Alex notices that the man is almost shaking with the force of his anger. Another thing on his list of things he’s noticed about Wolf that concern him fairly deeply. 

He was ill-tempered at Brecon Beacons, sure. But that was during selection, when he was facing the possibility of being binned. Not to mention, his unit was saddled with an inexperienced kid. Alex kept up fairly well, but he was nowhere near as good as Wolf, Fox, Eagle, and Snake had been. Looking back, he can understand why they weren’t happy that he was there with them. He wouldn’t be too thrilled if he had been them and they had been him.

“You didn’t say I needed to do either of those things.” Alex says. There’s not much else to say, it’s not like he’s going to apologize for nothing. “I had to go to the Bank for a meeting. And then I stopped to get something to eat with my mate Tom. It’s not like I was doing anything dangerous.” Alex isn’t sure why he’s trying to defend himself to Wolf. It’s not like he owes the man anything, after all.

“It’s common sense Cub!” Wolf shouts, pulling Alex by the collar until they’re standing face to face. His knuckles dig into Alex’s throat. “Any normal person would’ve known that, you bloody idiot.” He snarls, a wild look in his eye. Alex swallows nervously.

“Sorry, alright?” He says, just to get Wolf off his back. He starts to squirm in Wolf’s grip, feeling uncomfortably trapped with the man’s hand on his collar. He grab’s Wolf’s forearm, trying to pry the hand off of him. 

“Get off.” He spits, pulling hard on Wolf’s arm. The soldier seems to look through him, only serving to tighten his grip on Alex’s shirt. “Wolf. Get the fuck off of me.” He says firmly, trying to subside the panic building in his chest. He drives his knee into the soldier’s stomach, wincing at the pained groan Wolf lets out. As much as the man deserved it, Alex is still loathe to hurt him.

Wolf stands up straight, seemingly having snapped back to reality when Alex hit him. “Cub-” he says, then falters.

“Just leave.” Alex sits down on the bed, bringing one hand up to rub at his throat there he’s sure there’ll be a bruise tomorrow. Wolf stares for a second. There’s something in his eye that Alex can’t quite place. Before he can figure it out, the door is slamming shut behind Wolf.

Alex lays back, staring at the ceiling and trying to process what just happened. Wolf seemed almost… worried? Protective? Sure, it could be reasoned away with ‘he’s scared of losing his job’, but if that had been the case, why hadn’t he mentioned his job? He seemed worried that Alex could’ve been hurt, which is far from a worry that the Wolf Alex  
knows and hates would’ve had in this situation.

Whatever. Alex can think about this one when he doesn’t have national secrets on his phone, waiting for him to pore over. He wrestles his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and opening the gallery. He can tell that some of the photos are blurry and he curses himself. In his rush to get the photos and get out, the quality was sacrificed in many of the images. 

The first picture sparks a feeling of thrill in Alex’s stomach before he even starts reading. As much as he wished he had the chance to be a normal kid, he can’t help but think he would’ve gotten into spying one way or another. It’s in his blood, after all. Ian fostered in him an adrenaline addiction that he really can’t satiate with anything other than spying.  
The documents are weird. Most of it is in a language or a code that Alex can’t identify, let alone comprehend. The only words written in the latin alphabet are nonsensical themselves. ‘Zcerneboch’ and ‘Pechal’, both of which come up a multitude of times. The author’s writing is small and stilted, Alex imagines that it’s fairly hard to read. The first three pages are full of incomprehensible writing, and by the looks of the blurry photos, so are pages four and five. Page six looks like a hand-drawn map, a mass of straight lines and arrows and little symbols Alex knows are supposed to be doors. This could potentially be useful, but there are no real identifying markers on the map. One of the rooms is neatly labeled ‘Zcerneboch’ and the other ‘Pechal’. 

There’s a third room with a name, but this one has been furiously scribbled out and replaced with two simple words: ‘subject received’.  
Are Zcerneboch and Pechal items? Information, perhaps? Obviously it’s something that MI6 wants, probably quite desperately if the heads are involved. Usually the heads only get involved when it’s extremely sensitive information or… agents.

Agents. Of course. Zcerneboch and Pechal could be last names of agents, or even code names given to said agents. A heavy weight settles in Alex’s stomach and he suddenly feels like vomiting. It wasn’t even six months ago that Alex was chained to a wall in a basement in Meknes, being tortured relentlessly for information he didn’t have.

He shakes his head, trying to banish the memory from his mind. He can’t fall down that rabbit hole right now. He looks to the next page, another vague diagram. This one is different from the last. There’s a big rectangle in the middle, surrounded by a bunch of squiggly lines leading away from it. The page is dotted with sporadic markings, the letter X repeated over and over. Treasure? X marks the spot for treasure, after all. Alex snorts, swiping again. More writing. God, he’s getting really sick of this stupid code. Page after page after page of scribbly writing in a language Alex is pretty sure doesn’t even exist.

Did he seriously sneak into Ben’s office for this? A bunch of pages of writing that he can’t understand, a couple of maps that mean absolutely nothing to him, and a couple of names?

He throws his phone in the general direction of the wall. It hits with a loud bang and falls to the floor with a thud. Not even that was satisfying. Alex grumbles to himself while he strips down and throws on a pair of fleece pyjama pants. He shuts off the light and climbs into bed, resolving to try and get some sleep tonight. Maybe tomorrow he can go back  
to the bank and demand answers again, or sneak back into Ben’s office and see if the agent has anything else on the matter.

But that’s all a problem for tomorrow.

\--

The smell is overwhelming. It’s the musty smell of a too-old, too-dry basement. Alex’s eyes blink open slowly and he feels bile rise in his stomach. He’s not here. He can’t be back. Blunt told him that they arrested most of the people in charge there and shot the rest. This is just a bad dream.

But it feels so real. His wrists burn where the cuffs dig into them, and his shoulders ache from the strain. There are footsteps outside the door as maybe four people walk by. 

“Hello?” Alex calls out, voice scratchy. He wants to throw up.

“Hello, Detenysh.” A voice speaks from the corner. Alex turns, struggling against his bonds to see the person who spoke. The voice is familiar but he can’t quite place it. The accent is unassuming and Alex can’t place it. It’s not the man from his kitchen, he can tell that. Is this the man’s boss? The one he was talking about?

The darkness obscures the speaker’s identity. “Who are you?” Alex croaks. The voice laughs, but nothing is funny. Alex wants to cry. He had thought that when the extraction team pulled him out of here, that’d be it. Apparently not, though, because here he is. Chained back to this wall, wishing for death more than anything.

“We’ve missed having you here, Detenysh.” The voice is decidedly male. “We’ll have you back soon enough, though.” He says. Alex wants to ask him what he means by this, but before he can he hears a noise. There are more footsteps outside the door, and this time they’re running. There’s a single shout from outside, a man’s voice yelling “Ramez ahmar!” as he runs by.

The anonymous voice from the corner shifts. He stands up, still shrouded in darkness despite the fact that he’s now standing in the dim light produced by the bare lightbulb in the ceiling. “I must take my leave, Detenysh. I cannot wait to see you again.” He slips out through the heavy oak door. As soon as the man leaves, the footsteps outside cease and Alex’s surroundings change.

He’s laying on a steel exam table in a sterile room. His hands and wrists are bound with hard leather to the table. There’s a strap around his neck, biting into his soft skin. He wants to scream, but he’s been here before too and he knows better.

A man stands beside him looking down. He would look like a typical surgeon if not for the state of his eyes. One of his eyes is a normal shade of brown, but the other is almost pure white, like he has a thick cataract covering it. There’s a thick white scar running down the side of his face, part of it cutting into his eye.

“Alex.” He says simply, getting straight to work. He pulls out a scalpel and drill, reaching towards Alex’s chest. Just as the scalpel pierces his skin, his eyes shoot open.

\--

He wakes up panting for air. He throws the blankets off of himself, trying to slow his racing heart. He looks at his chest, searching for blood from the cut. The only thing he finds is a thin pink scar.

Just a dream then. A scary real dream, but a dream nonetheless. He squeezes his eyes shut, tugging on his hair. He can’t get that voice out of his head. Detenysh. What does that mean? Why does it sound so familiar? Who was the man in the corner and why doesn’t Alex remember him? Everything else in the dream was real. The cuffs, the footsteps, the men yelling “Ramez ahmar” as they ran by. The table, the scalpel, the doctor with the weird eye.

Why did his brain concoct one fake thing and throw it in with a bunch of real events? What kind of sense does that make?

He stands up, walking aimlessly around the room and looking for something to distract him. His eyes land on his phone, laying on the floor. It’s still dark out, so it must be before six. Tom will be asleep by now and Alex doesn’t want to risk waking him, but Smithers loaded his phone with games before he gave it to him. Maybe one of those might be able to distract him.

The notification light on his phone blinks lazily. When he unlocks it, there are four new texts waiting for him. The clock at the top of the screen reads 3:30 a.m.

**NEW TEXT  
** From: Unknown Number  
Alex, you’re driving Diego up the wall. Go home.

**NEW TEXT  
** From: Unknown Number  
Diego thinks you’ve keeled over somewhere. Now he’s driving me crazy. Please stop this and just go home.

**NEW TEXT  
** From: Unknown Number  
This is Ben Daniels by the way.

Alex saves the number in his phone but makes no move to reply to the texts. He'll let Ben stew in his own worry for just a little longer. Revenge for not warning him about Wolf when he had the chance.

**NEW TEXT  
** From: Tom  
heyyyy al. thanks 4 listening 2nite. im stayin @ james’s bc my parnets are still bein crazy n i WUD go 2 ur house buuuuut I don’t want 2 get murdered 2nite lol

Alex cringes at Tom’s grammar and spelling but still smiles nonetheless. Tom can make any serious situation into a bit of a joke, and that’s what Alex loves about him. 

**To: Tom**  
Haha at least you’ve got a place to stay, right? Good call on not going to my house, although I’m thinking I might go stay there if it means I’ll get killed.

**From: Tom**  
oof u ok? dont get mrdrd yet. that wud b rlly uncool of u. a spy getin killed wen hes not evn on a mssion. lame.

**To: Tom**  
Wolf is a bastard. Got a huge lecture when I got back even though he’s made it really clear that he doesn’t care what I do. It’s like having a girlfriend, I can’t figure out what the hell he wants from me.

**From: Tom**  
k al james is yelling @ me 4 txtin u so late so i g2g but im sure ull figure out wat 2 do abt wolf. may b just use ur spy pwrs to beat him up lol

**To: Tom**  
Maybe I will. Thanks for chatting with me, have a good night Tom.

**From: Tom**  
ya ya np al. gn m8

Alex turns off his phone, setting it on the table beside him and crawling back under the blankets. Time to give sleep another chance. He tends to get a bit like every other moody teenager when he's had a poor night's sleep.

He stares at the wall for a solid half hour before sleep finally takes him. Thankfully, his dreams leave him be. 

\--

There’s a note on the fridge when Alex stumbles into the kitchen. It's finally morning, sunshine illuminating through all the windows. Alex feels a thousand times better than he did last night, and his mood only escalates when he finds Wolf's note.

Cub,  
Gone out. Don’t know when I’ll be back.

There’s a phone number scribbled across the bottom of the note. Alex pulls it off the fridge and shoves it in his pocket, pulling the fridge open. The basics are there, but there’s nothing interesting. Eggs, milk, butter, jam, and a few vegetables that look like they’re about to go off. 

He pulls the eggs out of the fridge and picks out a tomato and some spinach. Alex digs around in the drawers until he finds a cutting board, which he throws on the counter beside the knife. Strangely enough, one of the drawers is full of baking stuff. Cupcake trays, cake pans, piping bags, whole cake decorating kits. Everything that a baker might need.

Wolf sure is an enigma.

Alex tosses a pan on the stove, turning on the heat. He cracks a couple of eggs into a bowl and whisks them quickly and then pours them into the pan. He dices the tomato and chops the spinach, pouring them into the pan on top of the eggs.

Just as he sits down to eat, someone bangs on the door. Irritated, Alex stands to open the door. 

The banging continues, and Alex considers just not answering. Whoever is at the door isn’t looking for him, so they’re not his problem.

He opens the door anyway, purely out of nosey curiosity. 

There are two soldiers standing on the doorstep in powder blue. Alex immediately recognizes them as Snake and Eagle. He has to resist the urge to slam the door in their faces. 

“Cub!” Eagle says gleefully. “Wow, we didn’t know you’d be here!” His acting is very poor, and Alex wants to ask how he survived RTI with such a tragic inability to lie.

“Uh…” Alex is very rarely without a snarky remark, but this turn of events has rendered him speechless.

“Sorry, Cub.” Snake elbows Eagle in the ribs. The tall soldier groans in pain. “Fox told us you were staying here. Is Wolf in?” He asks, looking hopeful.

“Uh, no. Sorry. He’s gone out for a mo’.” Alex says, hoping that the soldiers will be placated by his answer. 

“Oh.” Eagle looks crestfallen, then perks up. “Well, you don’t mind if we hang around until he gets back, right?” Alex tries not to groan. “He’ll probably be back soon, and  
whatever’s cooking smells really good. We haven’t had real food in like three weeks, just whatever grunge Brecon Beacons can scrape off its boots. Right, Snake?” 

Snake looks like he wants to chastise Eagle, but even he can’t deny that the food at Brecon Beacons leaves much to be desired. It checks all of the boxes under nutritional  
requirements, but not a single one under desirable taste, texture, or smell.

Alex sighs. He can’t help but be sympathetic to their plight. “Come in.” He sighs, opening the door for the soldiers.

“Thank you, Cub.” They both say, immediately walking to the kitchen. Alex puts his own omelette in the microwave to keep warm and starts digging around in the fridge for meat.  
Alex himself isn’t a fan of meat anymore, not since his stay in Meknes. It’s only recently that he’s learned to tolerate the smell of it, but he still can’t quite stomach it. It suits him just fine, but it never fails to horrify Tom when he orders the veggie burger at Lonnie’s.

“So, Cub, what are you doing nowadays?” Snake asks from his position at the table. He’s trying to make friendly conversation and, as much as Alex appreciates the effort, he’d really rather not, thank you very much.

“What has Ben… er… Fox told you?” Alex retorts easily. He has nothing against Eagle and Snake, but they really don’t need to know anything about him.

“Next to nothing. Your real name is Alex and you work for Special Ops, but that’s really it.” Eagle answers, fiddling with the coffee machine on Wolf’s counter.

“Well, I suppose I’ve just been doing normal things. Studying, going out with friends, the likes.” Alex says, dropping a few slices of bacon into the pan beside the omelettes. “Eagle, if you’re going to be poking around over there you may as well make yourself useful and toss a few slices of bread in the toaster.” 

Snake laughs. “Still just as snarky as you were during selection, are you?” He asks, and Alex shrugs.

“Where do you go to school? What uni?” Eagle asks, adjusting the dials on the toaster for an inordinate amount of time.

“Um. Brooklands Comprehensive? In Chelsea.” Alex flounders. It occurs to him that Ben didn’t mention to them how old he really is. Fuck. He hates telling people in the business how old he really is, because it’s never a fun reaction. Wolf doesn’t even know how old he is, the soldier still thinks he’s an adult for God’s sake. Alex isn’t really in the business about lying to people he doesn’t have to, though. His whole job is lying and deceiving. He’s not interested in bringing that into his daily life unless he has to.

“Isn’t that a secondary school?” Eagle laughs. “MI6 held you back a few grades, huh, Cub?” He grins. 

“How old do you think I am, Eagle? Not all of us struggle like you did.” He bites. Snake guffaws, hitting his fist off the table.

“He’s got you there, Eagle.” 

“How old are you really, then?” Eagle complains.

Alex shrugs. “Sixteen.” He then hurriedly tacks on the end, “Almost seventeen.”

Snake stops laughing. Alex focuses on the pan of food in front of him, trying to pretend the awkward silence doesn’t exist.

“You’re sixteen.” Eagle’s voice is incredulous, like he doesn’t want to believe that MI6 would bring in a fourteen-year-old to do their dirty work.

“Yeah. I was fourteen at Brecon Beacons, MI6 ‘employs’ a teenager to do their dirty work for them, blah blah blah. Let’s just eat.” Alex says, effectively shutting down the  
conversation.

He slides a plate in front of Snake, places one in front of an empty seat for Eagle, and retrieves his own out of the microwave. Everyone digs in and there are a few moments of blissful silence.

“I bet Wolf’s really glad you can cook. Does he make you cook a lot?” Eagle asks, mostly trying to fill the silence in the air. Alex shrugs.

“I just got here yesterday. I’ve seen him a grand total twice, and he was two busy lecturing me both of those times to ask me to cook.” He admits, shoveling more food into his mouth in the hopes that the soldiers will stop questioning him. “Besides, he can cook for himself, can’t he?” If he can bake, he can definitely feed himself, Alex reasons.

Snake laughs. “Cub, that man couldn’t fry an egg if his life depended on it. Where on Earth did you get the idea that he can cook for himself?” 

Alex shrugs again. He feels like he’s been doing that a lot today. “Well, he’s got all those baking supplies in the drawer, and baking is a lot harder than cooking is.”  
Eagle and Snake exchange a look, both suddenly becoming very interested in their food.

“He hasn’t told you, huh?” Eagle says quietly. Snake shoots the other solider a glare, kicking his shin under the table. Whatever secret they’re discussing, it’s obviously important.

“What!” Eagle says, throwing Snake an equally deadly glare. “Look, Dom. We both know he’s not going to tell him. We might as well just tell him now.” He reasons. Snake still looks opposed to the idea.

“He’s going to be pissed with ye.” Snake says simply. Eagle seems to take that as permission to let Alex in on whatever secret they’ve been discussing, because he stands up. 

“Isn’t he always? Cub, come with me. There’s something you need to see.” Eagle’s demeanour shifts dramatically, and a pit starts to grow in Alex’s stomach. There’s something you need to see. That’s never a good phrase. That almost always means that something very, very bad is about to happen.

Alex follows Eagle wordlessly into the hallway. They stop in front of the mystery door at the end of the hallway. Eagle takes a deep breath in preparation and Alex does the same, expecting the worst. Sure, Wolf's not a bad guy but he's definitely got some secrets.

A torture chamber, maybe. A secret staircase into Wolf’s evil lair, even. Eagle pushes open the door, and Alex balks at the sight of a…

Nursery? 

That’s certainly what he’s looking at right now. Pale pink walls, a dark oak crib in one corner and a matching dresser in another. There’s a mobile hanging over the crib. On one wall, there’s an elaborate painting of a forest, complete with a cute, cartoonish wolf standing between two trees. On either side of it, there’s a fox and a snake. Not too far from those three, an eagle perches in a tree.

It doesn’t take a degree to figure out the symbolism.

Wordlessly, Alex enters the room and walks over to the dresser, where there are three framed photos lined up. The first is of Wolf and a very pregnant woman standing in a park. Wolf’s hands are on the woman’s swollen belly, and they both look absolutely overjoyed.

The second photo is an ultrasound. The name Estella May Morales is written on the top of the picture in silver sharpie, obviously a woman’s handwriting.

The third picture is the most upsetting. The woman from the first image is laying in a hospital bed, holding a bundle of pink. Wolf sits in a chair next to her, one arm around her shoulders. They both look like they’ve been given the world. In a way, Alex supposes they have.

He reaches out and picks up the photo. “Huh. Wolf has a kid.” He says to himself, but Eagle overhears.

“Had.” He says, and Alex feels a rock drop to the bottom of his stomach. “Wolf _had_ a kid.”


	6. Six

Alex sips his green tea, seated on the kitchen counter. Snake and Eagle stand awkwardly by the table, both with varying levels of guilt on their faces. "So, Cub…" Snake starts, looking conflicted. He looks like he wants to talk about it but can't get over the guilt he feels over doing so.

Alex swishes his tea around in his mouth, trying to rid his palette of the taste of vomit. He doesn't reply to Snake, staring down into his mug. After Eagle's revelation about Wolf's daughter, Alex had dropped the photo like a burning ember and stumbled out of the room to go vomit in the kitchen sink. That had culminated in Eagle awkwardly rubbing his back while he convulsed and Snake trying to shove water down his throat.

"Feeling any better?" Eagle asks. Alex feels a sprig of pity for the man, still dressed in his powder blues and having to divulge his teammate's secrets.

"What happened to her?" Alex asks. He's never been one for beating around the bush, no sense in starting now. Snake swallows and Eagle bounces from toe to toe.

"She died." Eagle says plainly. "She was four months old. There was a- a car crash. Her mother, Danielle, was taking her to visit her sister in Manila. She lost control of the car and it crashed."

Snake coughs. "They never found Dani. Estella was in the backseat. She was dead when they found her, but they don't think she died on impact. It was a nasty accident. The police reckon Dani climbed out and went to look for help. Died somewhere along the way. As soon as Wolf heard the news, he got on the first flight to the Philippines. He had Estella brought home and he buried her here in England."

Alex notices that neither of the soldiers are making eye contact. With him or each other.

"There's more." He says. He can tell that there's something they're not telling him. Call it a superpower or even just basic observational skills, but he can tell that there is very obviously something more to be told.

"Well-" Snake starts, but Eagle cuts him off.

"Nothing gets past you, huh, Cub? Wolf thinks that Dani was kidnapped… he says that she never would've left Estella alone like that, even if she were dead. Especially not in a foreign country." He seems cold and impassive, but Alex can recognize that he's just trying not to get too emotional over this.

"What do you think?" Alex fires back. He can see Snake and Eagle starting to get frustrated.

"What we think doesn't matter, Cub. Dani and Estella are dead either way you look at it." Eagle says.

Alex supposes that could be true. But there's still more that Snake and Eagle are refusing to tell him. He knows these things. Snake and Eagle are hiding something, and Alex wants to know what it is.

"You think Wolf might have been right." Alex hazards a guess. Both Snake's and Eagle's eyes shoot to the ground and Alex feels like he's caught a couple of little kids in a lie. For Snake and Eagle to show their emotions like this, Danielle and Estella must have been really special to them.

"Look. Cub. We knew Danielle. She loved her daughter so much- She and Wolf loved her so much. And Danielle, she wouldn't give up on her daughter. So yes, personally I think that something compelled Dani to leave. I'm not saying it was kidnappers, though." Snake says, shrugging his shoulders. "No one knows what happened. And no one ever will. It's been half a year and they haven't even found a body yet."

Eagle steps forward. "What's important here is that Wolf is sick. He is absolutely obsessed with 'finding the truth' even though he's got no chance. The SAS discharged him. They told us that he's 'unstable', but we all know that there was something else there. He had a breakdown of some sort, we're almost certain. They offered him a place in 23 SAS, but he turned them down. He's been a wreck ever since."

Eagle's lips tighten into a thin line and he looks Alex directly in the eye. "Cub, we want him to get better. We figure that if he can pass a psych eval, the SAS might let him back in. We don't need you playing in to his fantasy or running off to play spy on this case. We only told you this so that you'd understand why Wolf is the way he is. God knows he never would've told you himself." Eagle rolls his eyes.

"I won't fuck this up." Alex says quietly. "Scout's honor." Alex holds up his hand, palm facing the soldiers. Eagle looks at him sceptically, but Snake smiles.

"Alrighty, Cub. We believe you." He says. Something in his expression is vaguely threatening and Alex gulps.

"So… did you guys want to watch a movie or something?" He offers, gesturing towards the sitting room awkwardly.

Eagle smiles for his troubles and Snake gives him an apologetic look. "Sorry Cub, wish we could. We told Wallaby that we'd be meeting him at noon and its nearly half-past already. Have a nice day, Cub. And don't forget to tell Wolf to give me a ring whenever he can, alright?"

Alex smiles back, waving the soldiers off and trying not to snort at the poor bloke who got saddled with the codename 'wallaby'. "Can do, see you later." He says, watching as the two men walk out the door.

Wolf's reaction when he came home so late last night is understandable now. Maybe he doesn't see Alex as his child, per se, but Alex is still his charge. His responsibility.

Alex can't imagine the fear he would've felt, feeling like he'd failed one kid and now another. Not to mention the whole business with Danielle. His wife? Girlfriend? Fiancée? Snake never said. For Wolf to have to deal with his daughter dead and his wife missing, presumed dead… Alex doesn't think he'd be able to handle that. No wonder Wolf's let himself go a bit.

He never thought he'd be feeling sympathy for Wolf. There's a first time for everything, though. He sits down on the couch, calling up Netflix and browsing for something to watch.

By the time Alex has finished his movie marathon, it's nearly half past seven and he's itching to go out somewhere. Maybe call up Tom and see if he doesn't have any advice for dealing with Wolf.

Speaking of Wolf, Alex shoots him a text.

To: Wolf

Going out with a mate for a while. Any specific time you want me back by?

It feels weird, treating Wolf like his guardian. But he's going to be here for a while, might as well make things easier for both of them if he can. Wolf is no Jack, but maybe they can still get along. Maybe.

Wolf texts back surprisingly quickly.

From: Wolf

Which mate?

Alex snorts.

To: Wolf

I've only got the one, you know. Tom.

From: Wolf

Be back by 0100. Stay in town and text me if your going to be late.

Not even half a minute later, another text comes through.

From: Wolf

Do you need a ride?

Alex is surprised. The man was absolutely murderous last night, and now he's actually being… dare he say kind? He's a bit flabbergasted by Wolf's kind offer.

To: Wolf

Thanks, but I have money for a cab. See you later.

He exits out of the messaging app, pulls Tom's contact up on his phone and hits the call button. The phone rings three times before Tom picks up.

"Hey hey Al, what's up?" He sounds happy.

"Wolf's out. Wanna go out and do something? I need to get out of the house for a bit." Alex offers. Tom is pretty much always willing to hang out with Alex, and vice versa. They're pretty much the only friends the other's got.

"Yeah, sure. I've gotta be back by midnight though, Jerry's coming home for a surprise visit tonight. His plane lands at seven and we have to pick him up." Tom says. Suddenly it's very obvious, what Tom was so excited about. Jerry is pretty much Tom's favorite person in the world, and Alex will be the first to admit that he's a cool dude. He used to take Alex and Tom out for lunch or to the park when Jack was busy and Tom's parents were fighting.

"That's cool. I'm leaving now, I'll meet you at Lonnie's?" Alex suggests.

"Actually…" Tom says. That's never a good sign.

Nadia Kiczenski knows that her parents are going to kill her for throwing this party. She'd invited five people, and five people had quickly become ten. Ten became twenty, and now there were thirty-five teenagers laying waste to her home.

She's about ready to tear her hair out when the door opens again. If one more thing gets broken, she's gonna call the cops herself. Tom Harris bounces in, holding a bottle of Smirnoff in one hand. Nadia's never talked to him much, but she knows what he's like. Over-excitable, and thus destructive. She's about to walk over and ask him to leave when a second figure follows.

Alex fucking Rider. Her jaw drops when he walks in. She grabs her friend's elbow, yanking her over and pointing.

"Is it just me," She says to Elizabeth, "Or is Alex goddamn fucking Rider in my house?"

Elizabeth laughs. "Looks like he's not dead! Now's your time to make your move!" She nudges Nadia playfully, and Nadia retaliates by shoving her. Hard.

"Piss off." She says, trying to ignore just how warm her cheeks feel. Elizabeth stumbles off laughing, leaving Nadia to stare.

Ok, so maybe she has a little bit of a crush on Alex Rider. So what? What does it matter if she has sinful daydreams about the tall blond? She's allowed to dream.

Besides, she thought he was dead. Her and the rest of Brooklands. He had showed up to his first two periods, but by the time third period rolled around no one knew where he was. Everyone had figured that he was just skipping again, 'sick'. Those opinions quickly changed when the evening news rolled around, and Alex Rider was officially declared a missing person by the British government.

They suspected he might have been kidnapped or something of the sort. At least, that's what everyone at school was saying. His uncle was a high-profile banker who apparently knew a few things that some criminals thought he'd maybe passed on down to Alex. Four weeks later, the news reported that Alex had been found, alive. That was it. He never came back to school. No one besides Tom Harris had really even seen him since then. A couple of people said they saw him around town, but he never spoke to anyone, even if they asked him a question.

Alex Rider certainly is an enigma.

Tom is acting like a kid at Christmas, and Alex feels like he's a babysitter. They've been at this party for all of fifteen minutes and Tom is already getting kind of ridiculous. Alex does not look forward to carrying him home. He had subtly avoided Alex's line of questioning about the bottle of Smirnoff he'd been carrying and nearly jumped on the keg in the backyard.

Alex watches as Tom, supported by a couple of his buddies from the football team, tries to beat Sam Anderson's keg stand record of 31 seconds. It takes about five seconds for his face to go bright red, and less than three after that before he's sat on the ground, sputtering and spitting beer all over himself.

Alex almost feels sorry for him. Almost.

He's about to help Tom up when he feels a poking at his bicep. "Here." A feminine voice says. Alex looks over and there's a girl with shoulder-length brown hair and dainty features holding a red solo cup filled with a mysterious substance out towards him. He vaguely recognizes her.

"Thanks." He says, swirling the liquid around in his cup a bit. "You're Nadia, right? From German?"

Her cheeks, already pink from the cold and the alcohol, blush a deeper shade of red. Alex raises an eyebrow but doesn't question it.

"Y-Yeah, that's me. Didn't think you'd remember me." She shrugs.

"Yeah, you sent me all your notes when I got bronchitis." She thankfully doesn't mention that no one gets bronchitis in June. "You're the main reason I passed that class, honestly."

She giggles. "It was no problem. Now, no more talking about school! Some of us haven't dropped out yet, you know." She winks. "Drink up! It's a party, so you better get some booze in you." She holds her glass up in a cheers motion and waits patiently for Alex to follow.

It's not the same, toasting with plastic cups. With wine glasses, there's a satisfying little plink noise. With solo cups, it's a more of a dull thwap.

"Prost." Alex says. Nadia giggles and follows with a little 'hear hear!' before they both down their shots.

Alex looks back over at Tom, who is already once again upside down over the keg stand. A couple of people are surrounding him, chanting "Chug! Chug! Chug!" With a concerning amount of excitement. He and Nadia make some more casual conversation, mostly talking about what's been going on at Brooklands since he left. It's nice, being able to just have a casual chat with someone his own age who doesn't know what he does when he disappears.

Their chat is disrupted when the patio door flies open and someone runs outside. A tall girl with black hair that Alex doesn't recognize. She runs right up to Nadia, looking serious and a little bit queasy. "Nad, Henry just threw up on your carpet." She gags. "It's everywhere."

Nadia groans. "You're kidding me, right?" Her friend shakes her head. Nadia looks back over to Alex.

"Rain check?" She smiles hopefully, and Alex finds himself smiling back.

"Yeah, sure. Of course. Hey, have fun dealing with the vomit." He laughs at the horrified look on her face.

She disappears, and Alex turns back to face Tom, who has valiantly re-mounted the keg. His legs are being held by two guys from the football team and he actually seems to be succeeding on this try. Everyone on the patio starts counting the seconds.

Alex has never been one for parties. He's not really into all the loud music and the dancing and the keggers, which is why he ended up sitting on the front porch, playing games on his phone and making idle chat with whoever approaches him. He's had a few drinks, enough to be tipsy but nowhere near enough to get drunk.

It's 9:30 and Alex figures Tom is probably drunk enough to be convinced that he needs to go home now. Maybe it's a bit rude, but Alex has been sitting on the patio for almost two hours and he's ready to go home now.

He heads upstairs to where he knows the bathroom is, leaving the door open behind him. He stands in front of the vanity, intending to splash a bit of cold water on his face in order to sober up a bit. He's only tipsy, but something tells him that Wolf wouldn't be too happy if he showed up like this. Before he can, Nadia stumbles in with a stupid grin on her face. She pushes Alex back, pressing their bodies flush together.

"Hey." She says, wrapping her hands around his biceps. "I saw you come in here. How's it going?" She slurs. Alex can smell alcohol and weed on her breath. Her eyes are wide and her pupils blown.

"Uh, hi." He says, trying to nudge her off of him. She's a small thing, but Alex can't seem to get her off.

"Alex." She says, trying to get closer to him. "Alex." She repeats. "I like you. You're cute. Do you think I'm cute?" Before Alex can answer, she says, "You should kiss me." Her eyes close and she leans in for a kiss, lips pursed in wait.

Alex puts his hand over her face to stop her. "You're drunk." He says, removing his hand.

She giggles. "Yup, I am." She says, leaning in for a second time. Alex stops her. "Nadia, you're drunk." He re-iterates, prying her hands off his shoulders and walking out of the bathroom.

He makes his way downstairs, trying not to feel bad about leaving Nadia alone like that. She's a very pretty girl, but she's also very drunk. It's just not right. Besides, he's not really into her anyway.

He ducks and weaves through the mass of teenagers, eventually coming out to the patio. He spots Tom, sitting on a bench with a couple of other guys. He looks content, cheeks red and lips puffy, but Alex really doesn't want to risk running into Nadia again.

"Hey Tom, we need to leave. Sorry." He says, grabbing his friend's hand and pulling him up. His buddies groan and one of them reaches out as if to grab him, but aborts the motion halfway.

"Aw, but Alex!" Tom pouts. "Come on man, ten more minutes?" He pleads. Alex laughs.

"Sorry mate, you need to be home soon." He doesn't give Tom the chance to protest as he wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him around the side of the house. Tom's house isn't all that far from Nadia's, so Alex decides to just walk him home. The cold air might sober him up a bit too.

On the way over, he sends Wolf a text.

To: Wolf

Any chance you could pick me up in about half an hour?

He sends the text and immediately follows it with a second, this one containing Tom's address and nothing else. The walk to Tom's is a bit long from Wolf's house, and he did offer him a ride… plus, it's too late and he's too tipsy to bother with a cab.

"Have fun?" He asks.

Tom laughs, stumbling a bit. "You fuckin bet your ass I did." He slurs. "I beat the keggy record." He cheers. Alex laughs, pulling his best friend forward and thanking God that Tom only lives a ten-minute walk from Nadia.

The walk ends up taking closer to half an hour because Tom continually tries to stop and smell the flowers (literally) every time they pass a garden, but Alex doesn't even really mind. Who knew Tom was such a funny drunk.

By the time they've reached Tom's house, Tom has (thankfully) sobered up considerably. As fun as he is drunk, he's also a bit of an absolute handful. Alex can see a couple of lights on in the house where he knows the sitting room and kitchen to be, so he knows that Tom's parents are still up. He only hopes that they don't notice his inebriated state.

"Here you are, mate. Say hi to Jerry for me, alright?" Alex says, and Tom nods. Alex has just started to turn away when Tom grabs his wrist, pulling his back. Alex blinks, and when he opens his eyes again Tom's face is inches from his own. Tom is strangely beautiful under the street lamps, in a best-mate sort of way. Because really, that's what he is. Alex's best mate. Nothing more. Right?

He swallows nervously. Tom's breath is fanning over his face. It smells like beer and spicy Cheetos. If it had been anyone else, Alex would've been grossed out. But this is Tom. Nothing about Tom bothers him any more.

"Thanks for coming with me tonight." Tom says, moving slightly closer.

"Yeah, uh… it was no problem." Alex's mouth is suddenly very, very dry.

"I had a good time." Tom says.

"I did too." Alex's voice is barely a whisper. Tom's hand moves to Alex's waist, his thumb sliding under the blond boy's shirt and stroking softly at the skin underneath. Alex shivers, feeling a strange sensation in his abdomen.

"Yeah." Tom says, nudging Alex's nose with his own.

"Yeah." Alex whispers. Tom moves closer and then he's pressed flush against Alex and Alex can feel his brain melt a little in his head.

"Just… push me away if you don't want this." Tom says, and Alex blinks. Is this really happening? When he opens his eyes, Tom's lips are against his own.

He doesn't push him away.


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Care to explain what I just saw, Alex?” Wolf says, and it’s the use of Alex’s real name that really gets to him. Any other time, the man would call him Cub.
> 
> “Not particularly.” Alex replies, eyes glued to the dashboard in front of him. He wiggles his fingers, trapped between his thighs and the seat below them.
> 
> “Alex.” Wolf says. He doesn’t sound angry or annoyed or murderous, which is good. His tone is one that Alex has never heard Wolf use before. It sounds almost… sympathetic.
> 
> “You know, I’m really tired. Maybe we should co back so I can sl-” Alex is cut off before he can finish.
> 
> “Alex, are you… are you gay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been a long time coming, and I'm sorry it took me so long to get it out! I hope you guys like it, even though it's short as hell.

It doesn’t take Alex too long to figure out that kissing a boy is absolutely nothing like kissing a girl. Tom’s lips are much more chapped that those of any girl Alex has ever kissed. His hands, planted firmly under his shirt, against the soft skin of Alex’s hip. The kiss is a bit awkward and sloppy, but Alex can still feel the fireworks under his eyelids as their lips move in synch.

They only break apart when the car parked on the curb, one they hadn’t noticed before and certainly hadn’t heard pull up, lays on its horn like its diver has died on the steering wheel. The noise is sufficient enough to make them both jump, pulling apart quickly. Alex shoves his hands in his pockets, trying to bite down the fear that’s rising rapidly in his stomach.

He can’t bring himself to look at Tom. There’s no way he just kissed his best friend, and there’s no way that he actually liked it. He has nothing against gay people, but he isn’t one of them. He’s straight, he’s always been straight. Heterosexual. Strictly into boobs.

The car on the curb (rather rudely) interrupts Alex’s momentary gay crisis before it even really has the chance to properly start. Alex turns to give the driver the finger for being a homophobic cock, because he may not be gay, but Tom is and nobody gets to insult his friend and-

Oh God. That’s Wolf’s car.

Alex can feel all of the colour draining out of his face. Wolf. His guardian, his military-trained guardian, just saw him kissing a boy. He knows that not every soldier is homophobic, but… he also knows that gay guys tend to be the butt of the joke.

“Maybe you should go inside.” Alex says, still unable to look Tom in the eye.

Tom, still a little bit drunk and very confused, turns on his heel and walks to the door, swaying ever so slightly from side to side as he goes. Alex watches him with a sick feeling in his gut. He takes a few shaky breaths and prepares himself for the fire he’s sure he’s about to walk into. He stands on the curb for as long as he thinks he can get away with before he steels his nerves one final time and marches over to Wolf’s waiting car.

He opens the front door and slides into the passenger seat, staring straight ahead the whole time. If he doesn’t look, if he doesn’t interact, maybe Wolf won’t say anything.  
The car starts, and Wolf pulls out onto the road, allowing the silence to settle over the two as he navigates back to their shared flat.

Just when Alex thinks maybe he’s in the clear, Wolf makes an unexpected turn that Alex knows isn’t part of the drive home.

It’s funny, how Alex has faced murderers and terrorists and crocodiles and bombs, but the idea of facing a simple SAS soldier has him scared witless. Wolf pulls the car into the parking lot of an elementary school and for a brief second Alex worries that he’s about to get murdered, there in the dark.

“Care to explain what I just saw, Alex?” Wolf says, and it’s the use of Alex’s real name that really gets to him. Any other time, the man would call him Cub.

“Not particularly.” Alex replies, eyes glued to the dashboard in front of him. He wiggles his fingers, trapped between his thighs and the seat below them.

“Alex.” Wolf says. He doesn’t sound angry or annoyed or murderous, which is good. His tone is one that Alex has never heard Wolf use before. It sounds almost… sympathetic.

“You know, I’m really tired. Maybe we should co back so I can sl-” Alex is cut off before he can finish.

“Alex, are you… are you gay?” Wolf asks, and it feels like he’s just sucker-punched Alex right in the gut. His chest starts to feel tight and he can’t breathe and the next thing he knows, he’s ripping off his seatbelt and throwing open the door to heave on the pavement below. Wolf sits silently in wait, allowing the younger male a moment of privacy to wipe his mouth on the neckline of his shirt and compose himself a little bit.

Alex coughs twice before pulling himself back into the car, wiping at his mouth with the back of his sleeve and sniffling. 

“Should I take that as a yes?” Wolf asks, maybe a little jokingly. Alex doesn’t reply, instead staring directly at the dashboard of the car. Wolf sighs. “Cub,” he starts, which doesn’t even feel normal anymore. The fact that Wolf was using his given name was weird, but so is Cub. Everything feels strange right now, he supposes.

Alex cuts him off before he can continue, raising his voice to address an audience only he can see. “I don’t know, alright! That was- what you just saw? That was nothing but a mistake! Tom is drunk, I’m drunk, he doesn’t like me that that! So just drop it.” Alex finishes. A moment later, he adds a soft ‘please’ to the end of his tirade.  
Wolf stares at him with one eyebrow cocked. “He doesn’t like you.” He repeats. “But you never said you don’t like him.” He points out.

Alex wants to scream, because he himself doesn’t know and he doesn’t think he’s ever been more embarrassed than he is now. “Look. Diego.” He says, because if Wolf is playing the given name game then Alex will be damn sure to play it too. “I don’t like Tom. He’s my best friend, but I don’t like him like that. I’m straight.” He doesn’t sound very convincing, but it seems to be enough to placate Wolf because the man puts the car back into drive and pulls out of the lot, driving down the road in total silence. Alex presses down the panic in his chest.

The rest of the ride is bathed in an oppressive, heavy silence.

\--

When the car pulls into Wolf’s flat, Ben’s car is already there, and Alex thinks about stealing the gun he knows Wolf keeps in his glove compartment and shooting himself in the head with it.

He doesn’t, of course, but he really does give it a lot of consideration. His night has already been awkward enough, anyway.

Ben is standing in the drive, watching as the car pulls in. He smiles, blissfully unaware of the tension between the two. Alex doesn’t bother saying hello and instead pushes past Ben and takes the stairs to the front door two at a time. His hands are shaking like an earthquake and his vision is starting to blur around the edges. He feels like he’s living in an old movie, what with the shaking and the vignette. 

He ignores Ben’s protest of concern and storms through the living room and down the hallway. At the end of the hall, he slams into the bathroom and immediately locks the door behind him. He eyes the window, considering jumping out and making a run for it. Instead, he reaches in the shower and turns the water as hot as it’ll go. He leans against the bathroom door, panting as he listens to Wolf and Ben’s raised voices behind the door and the slamming of water on tile in front of him.

He takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing system. He feels like screaming or shouting or just throwing a fit. He knows it’s dumb but god, he’s sick of people knowing his secrets. Because that’s just it, isn’t it? Everyone knows his secrets before even he does.

Well. That’s not quite true. He does have one secret that he can keep to his own, and he knows there’s dozens of people dying to know it.

Yes, there are many people who would give their right arm to know just what happened in Meknes. Why Alex left Britain a teenager and came back a soldier, just what they did to him in those three unaccounted months. 

But that’s Alex’s secret to keep. And nobody, living or dead, will force it from him.


End file.
